


Words of Wisdom

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 19:32:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17106782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: A story inspired by three quotes:"Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication" - Leonardo da Vinci"The art of being wise is the art of knowing what to overlook" - William James, Father of American Psychology, co-developer of theory of pragmatism."We worry, dread and fear what hasn't happened, and probably never will" - Mark Twain





	Words of Wisdom

After dealing with his father (a loud, obnoxious, intimidating bully of the first degree), for all those years, Kevin Richards had made a point of trying to be as studied and evenhanded in his speech as he tried to be in his actions. Of course, sometimes that worked successfully and sometimes it didn't, at least in the viewpoint of those who knew him well and cared about him no matter his faults.

His Uncle Lyle, with Uncle Aubrey's full agreement, had made the rather apt observation once, "Kevin, substituting quiet, cold, aloof superiority for a loud, bullying voice and the back of your hand isn't really the best counter-reaction to your father. It just makes you sound like your mother rather than your father, and that is not an improvement, I must tell you. It just makes you sound pompous and detached."

Julie had been even blunter on occasion, "Kevin, big brother, I love you dearly, but did you know you are an arrogant ass??!"

Well, Kevin was headed for the military, as an officer, and he thought 'detached' was a commendable trait, implying impartiality and a cool head, not something to be so decried as his uncles seemed to feel. Julie's opinion he just put down to her being his young sister, a sister he was acting in loco parentis to.

Til he'd met the O'Donnell family, headed by Felane and Lupan O'Donnell, he'd been successful, more or less, in maintaining his composure, keeping his anger, eventually even his exasperation well in check. Then, the longer he knew them and their growing family, the more he interacted with them and their family, things changed, the more his studied control slipped.

That first morning he'd awakened in a strange room, an unfamiliar landscape outside the window, still dazed and groggy, to see the bed surrounded by curious eyes. Three redheaded girls, stairsteps, the oldest still a ways from being a teen; three dark haired boys, similarly spaced. He'd been twenty-six, and he'd spent the intervening years feeling just as disconcerted by them as he'd been that first day. Yes, things had certainly changed.

(They changed even more when he made the acquaintance of Lieutenant Craig Garrison and his men, but that's another story.)

Ever since Felane had dragged him home with her, dazed and weak from loss of blood from that bullet wound, he'd somehow become part of their family, and like with many families, that was often an uncomfortable thing. Sometimes it felt like he was an alien in a strange land, though he had always felt that was an unacceptably bizarre way of describing it, especially for a man who prided himself on being cool and logical in his thinking. Once he'd been arguing with them over something at a crowded kitchen table and had exclaimed in frustration, "I feel like the sole Episcopalian in a family of Druids!", only to have laughter erupt. {"Yes, that was a much more apt way of explaining it, surely."}

"Oh, hardly Druids, Kevin. We don't get along well with Druids; the Clan never has, really. Oh, there are similarities, certainly, but we have certain philosophical differences. An uncomfortable co-existence is as much as we are likely to achieve. Out-and-out conflict we try to avoid, of course; someone always ends up dead. Of course, they tend not to stay as dead as you would hope for, which does tend to complicate matters."

He'd been left, mouth gaping, and by the time he remembered to close it, the subject had turned to a debate of which mare should be crossed with that new stallion imported at such effort.

He never totally understood why Felane had brought him home with her in the first place. She could have just walked off and left him in that back alley in Budapesh; she certainly had no obligation to him. She could have gotten him away from his pursuers but dropped him off at the closest British Consulate and been done with the matter, but she hadn't. No, she'd brought him home with her, much like, as her exasperated Bondmate Lupan expressed it, "Felane!! Another stray pup??! JJ, this one, how many others, Felane??"

"Erdu said it was important, that HE was important, or at least will be. Just as she told me about JJ. It doesn't pay to discount her guidance, you know that, Lupan."

Kevin hadn't understood her answer, though it seemed Lupan had, had even accepted it, though with a deeply annoyed 'hufft'.

Although Lupan and Felane hadn't (well, not very often) exasperated him to the point of anger, he could hardly say the same for their children. No, let's be honest; the boys never HAD really annoyed him (scared the hell out of him with some of their antics, yes, but not really annoyed him.).

The girls??! It seemed they knew every hot button he possessed, and had no qualms about stomping on each and every one of them. Well, perhaps it was mutual. He had more than one memory of them flaring up at him, telling him a few home truths (as they saw it) in a variety of voice, all with that commonly-held lilt. First Caeide, then Meghada joined in, with Ciena following, and eventually even the youngest, Coura. THAT young lady had stood tall (at eight years of age) to inform him, in so many words (oh, lord, SO many words!!) that "you are a grave disappointment to me, Kevin, and eventually will be to yourself if you don't make some much needed adjustments!" That was only the start of a lecture that still, after all these years, made him wince at the memory.

Yes, he and the O'Donnell girls, now women for the most part, had stood toe to toe many times, and with them his anger and frustration slipped out more than it had with anyone else. He'd lectured them on anything and everything, and they'd usually come back at him hard and fast. He'd been so sure he was right and they were wrong - that, as much as he liked and respected their parents, there were just some things the girls needed HIS guidance for, what with the parents (the whole extended family!) having such odd ideas and notions.

Sometimes, like now, it felt like every angry word he'd ever spoken to them came back to haunt him. {"There's probably a lesson in there somewhere,"} he thought grimly. 

"Does everything have to be complicated with you?" he remembered exploding at Meghada once after one of her more bizarre and madly interwoven (and highly successful) operations in the field had been followed by an equally bizarre string of events NOT in the field (that proving equally successful).

She had looked at him appraisingly, "no, Kevin. It doesn't. Somethings things can be very, very simple. Sometimes simple is even more effective, usually more efficient. Certainly more final. I have no problem with 'simple' when the occasion warrants it; the question is, can YOU handle 'simple'? Can you LIVE with 'simple'?"

At the time he'd just brushed aside the question, considering it just another example of how she liked to aggravate him, drive him to utter distraction.

Now, the question, her answer, had come back to haunt him. Richards felt the icy cold pass through him, chilling his blood. Could he handle 'simple'? Could he live with 'simple'? Maybe that was the real question. For himself, his own safety, no, he couldn't; he'd take his chances. For Julie? - he needed to think on that a little. Or did he?

 

He thought back now, wondering whether he'd missed the first signs in his preoccupation with his job, that last long dangerous mission he'd been sent on. Well, yes, when he'd returned, he'd noticed Julie seemed a little down, but with the war, no one was quite gleeful anymore. Still, she seemed unaccountably nervous, had actually startled and dropped that red vase she set such a store by when he'd spoken to her after a long period of silence after dinner at her flat. 

After that, he made a point of paying better attention, and realized that a new nervousness was becoming a part of her behavior. If it had been anyone else, he might have discounted that more easily, but this was Julie. She could act terribly silly sometimes, even dithery, but underneath she was solid and dependable, at least in most matters. She didn't get nervous, skittish; she dealt with her problems head-on, sometimes too much so for Kevin's sense of propriety. She'd been plain enough about it, that she was a grown woman, that her big brother needed to find someone else to cosset.

Well, no matter what she said, she was still his baby sister. Still, he did have to admit she did a more than tolerable job in looking out for herself. Oh, he worried about some of the men who flocked around her, had been doing so since the parade started when she was just eighteen, but he took care to intervene when it truly became necessary, preferably without her knowledge, and for the most part he felt he'd done a good job in raising her to have good common sense. (And yes, it had been HIM raising her, not their parents, who had been far too busy with their far more important activities.) 

She hadn't succumbed to any false blandishments, hadn't fallen for any pretty smiles hiding false hearts, had managed to stay out of the grasp of any thinking to improve their own position by claiming someone with such rich connections to the three rings of power in London - the aristocracy, the military and the governmental spheres. Yes, no matter how silly she sometimes acted, his Julie DID have a good head on her shoulders, and was used to handling her own business. And it wasn't like he didn't have plenty of other matters to attend to; the war kept him quite busy, of course.

He didn't know if she would have ever told him, ever confided in him, if he hadn't found her like that. He'd knocked softly, considering the early hour, gotten no reply, had used his key to let himself in, only to find her huddled on the sofa, weeping over something in her lap. Well, his Julie was soft-hearted, and the realization that she held the body of a grey cat didn't surprise him much. She was forever getting warnings from the building custodian about feeding the strays. Still, there was something odd about the intensity of her tears, her hunched posture, something odd about that small body.

He sat his packages on the table beside the door, shutting and locking it before he made his way over to her. His words of comfort froze in his throat as he saw more clearly that small body, the mutilations that had been performed. Her dazed eyes met his and he realized she was in a state of shock. Perhaps that was the only reason she said what she did, told him "he said the next time it would be a child left at my doorstep. If I don't marry him, next time it would be a child. Oh God, Kevin, I couldn't bear that! I just couldn't!!!" 

He gently took the cat away, folded her into his arms, and listened as the story poured from her. "I didn't encourage him, I swear, Kevin. How could I have? He reminded me far too much of father, the outward charm with all that hard ugliness underneath. He repelled me right from the beginning, when he first approached me; frightened me more each time he came toward me whenever we met at some occasion or the other!"

He now heard all the dimly veiled threats to him, to their uncle Aubrey, those vague threats turning to something far more solid, more specific as time went by. His teeth clenched at thinking of her having to deal with all that, thinking she had to deal with it alone. Yet he understood. The name she spoke told him going to the police would do nothing but create more problems for Julie, for all of them, and would resolve nothing; the man was simply too powerful. The same for his own contacts in the halls of government, and his one or two friendly sets of ears at the palaces would quickly be covered by frantic palms, leaving him standing there still explaining, talking to the empty air. No, any accusations, any charges, would only lead to the threat being shifted into a different direction. Away from coercion, toward retribution for her, the two of them, the rest of their familiy, for defying the man's desires.

He'd made a quick call, explaining matters briefly, and had then taken her to Kilmeade Manor where he knew his uncles would keep her safe and sequestered while he did some heavy thinking. Two days he spent doing that thinking, trying to come up with viable solutions, to no avail. Well, no solution that wouldn't bring total ruin down on those he loved, no solution that wouldn't leave them without even his limited support and protection. Two days, while his mind kept going back to that calm voice, that conversation from years ago.

"Sometimes things can be very, very simple, Kevin. Sometimes simple is even more effective, usually more efficient. Certainly more final. I have no problem with 'simple' when it's called for; the question is, can YOU handle 'simple'? Can you LIVE with 'simple'?"

He now knew the answer. For Julie? Yes, for Julie, he could live with 'simple'. For Julie, he could ask a favor from someone who was an expert in 'simple'. How high the cost? He didn't know, no longer cared; he would pay it, whatever it might be.

 

She roused from her concentrated study of those new maps Craig Garrison had annotated in their last mission, wanting to make those adjustments on her own files as well; you never could tell when she'd end up in that area again, though the Carpathians weren't a place she had much fondness for. She lifted her head, a slight frown as she noted the slight difference in the atmosphere, and quickly tucked her revolver into her pocket before she ventured out the kitchen door.

Whatever she'd expected when she got the faint feeling of an interloper on the grounds, it hadn't been a soaked and thoroughly chilled Kevin Richards sitting on the stone bench on the garden, head upturned to the moisture from above. She hurried forward through the remaining mist that followed the previous downpour and stood in front of him. 

"Kevin? Kevin, what on earth?" she exclaimed. It seemed like forever before he tipped his head forward, let her see his bloodshot eyes, his drawn and exhausted face.

"Meghada? You asked once if I could live with 'simple'. I don't think I have a choice anymore." For the first time in a long time, she was glad the cottage was unoccupied, neither Goniff nor Craig inside. She had a feeling whatever was weighing on Kevin Richards' mind, he'd want no witnesses to the unveiling.

She listened to his story, not interrupting to ask questions, knowing he was giving as good a briefing now as he did when sending her out on assignment; every last tidbit he knew, he would give her to use. He was simply too accustomed to the process to do anything differently. In the end, she only nodded, as she frequently did when ACCEPTING one of those assignments. The only thing different was his faltering mention of 'repayment'. She shook her head, smiled at him, touched his forearm gently.

"Repayment? Well, I could use a good joke every now and again. Things get frightfully grim sometimes, Kevin, even with the guys to keep up my spirits. Yes, a good joke or funny story or tall tale, bringing me in on a prank you think might suit my temperment, something to make me laugh; that would be repayment enough. Not that such is necessary, you know. For better or worse, you are a Friend, maybe even more Family in some regards, and that means Julie, and your uncles are too. For such, well, for such there really doesn't need to be talk of repayment. Now, forget all about that, Kevin. You need sleep; looks like you've had little enough of that recently. Here, take that glass with you and follow me. I'll let down the Murphy in the library and get you settled." 

While he felt rather like he had as a small boy visiting his Uncle Aubrey, being cossetted and fussed over, it felt amazingly good to just change into nightclothes probably left behind by one of the brothers (probably Michael by the fit), crawl into that bed, sit there sipping at his whiskey while she talked of this and that, nothing related to what he'd told her, her voice eventually getting fainter as he grew more and more drowsy. He hardly realized it when he slid down into the mounded covers, turned his head and went into the first sound sleep he'd had in days; he hardly felt it when she tugged the blanket up closer around him.

Later he thought he'd heard faint voices from the next room, but they didn't pull him from his deep, dreamless sleep. A sleep unvisited by the violent, tragic dreams that had haunted him ever since he'd found out the danger Julie was in.

He'd thought he was alone when he awoke, not hearing any movement from the rest of the cottage or her voice, but soon found he wasn't.

A cheery voice greeted him from the open doorway. "Woke up, did you now, major? Well, seems you needed the sleep, right enough. I'll 'ave you some coffee and scones afore you know it. The Lieutenant, now 'e offered to make a real breakfast, but my advice is, don't take 'im up on it. Wait just a bit til Chiefy gets 'ere; 'E can find 'is way around the kitchen without burning everything to cinders, which the Lieutenant just can't seem to. Gets caught up in thinking about one a 'is plans, you know, and there it all goes!"

Goniff disappeared only to reappear within just a couple of minutes with a hot brimming cup of well-creamed coffee and a saucer with two warmed scones which he sat on the desktop, which served as an oversized nightstand when the Murphy bed was let down.

"'Gaida? Oh, she said she 'ad some errands to run; might not be back for a couple of days, maybe a bit more, but we're to see you right for today. Now, you 'ave to be back up on your feet and thinking straight by afternoon; seems you're expected, you and Miss Julie, at General McCloud's place for dinner, and it's aways from 'ere up to your uncle's place then back to London. Looks like a busy calendar you two 'ave; 'Gaida mentioned you're all three promised to Lord Dauntrey and 'is missus for tomorrow night - dinner and cards and such. That being such a long way's off, all the way over near Bath, you're both expected to travel on with the General after dinner tonight, spend the night at the Dauntrey's, 'ave him show you about the place tomorrow, 'ave that nice dinner and cards with the neighbors after, and attend their daughter's birthday breakfast the next morning afore you all 'ead back up to London. And no arguing about any of that, mind you; 'Gaida was right firm about it all, and you know 'ow she gets!" 

Kevin Richards took a long look at the Cockney pickpocket, chattering away about all those plans, wondering. Goniff turned, and that vacuous look he wore so well slid away, shifted to something quite different, a kind yet conspiratorial look, offering an amazing amount of comforting reassurance. Somehow, comfort and reassurance were things Richards had never expected to be offered, not from that source, but he found it eased him more than he could have imagined.

"Well, if Meghada says it's to be so, who am I to argue? And yes, indeed, I know quite well how she gets," he said, nodding in understanding.

"There, now! It's all settled, and there's Chiefy at the door, so we can get you fed and all in right tick afore you know it. Bath's through that door there; by the time you're together, imagine food will be on the table. Best enjoy it; you've a busy few days a'ead of you, looks like."

And a busy few days they were, starting with him driving up to Kilmeade Manor (followed along at a discreet distance by the car holding Garrison and his team, "just in case, Major, just in case.") to pick up a nervous Julie, her travel case in one hand, his sitting at her feet, in time to make their dinner engagement.

Kevin found a moment to quietly tell Julie on the way back to London, "a messge from Megdada, Julie. She said not to worry; she has things well in hand. Just bear up and be yourself for the next few days; let people see you are enjoying yourself as much as you can." Well, that hadn't been the exact message he'd received from Meghada; that had been more unspoken, a certain look, a kind but firm hand to his shoulder, but he knew what she meant, well enough. Julie didn't look quite so nervous then, and was able to look and sound more like herself from then on, well enough to pass anyway.

So it was off to General McCloud's for a pleasant dinner, then on to Lord and Lady Dauntry's, them traveling in the same car as General McCloud and the general's everpresent Aide, the discreet and reliable Corporal Manners. Kevin put his mind firmly to the task of making himself agreeable, seeing that Julie's mind was kept occupied; in short, he was the perfect guest, one his hosts would have no qualms about certifying to his presence and full participation in their events for the whole time, should anyone inquire.

 

"Just a touch of dyspepsia, Kevin, nothing to worry about," Meghada told him, sipping the herb tea slowly, hoping for relief sometime soon. She'd brought the loaded tea diffuser with her (even had three extra tucked away in a pouch in her purse), so a request to dear Private Ames for a pot of very hot water and a cup had let her settle across from Major Richards' desk in some semblance of relaxation. She focused on his relating of the amusing conversation at Lord and Lady Dauntry's little affair, trying to keep her stomach from repeating that distressing rumble-gurgle it had been insisting on giving.

It was her own fault, of course; she'd been scolded often enough as a child for gulping her food far too quickly. Well, in her defense, there hadn't been a lot of time available for anything more leisurely. And, then again, there had been all those crunchy bits and tough stringy pieces; she didn't know what they were making medals from these days, but they left a very unpleasant aftertaste, whether it was the metal itself or the attached ribbons. He wasn't a military man - where did he get those medals? And who would have expected him to be wearing them on his pajamas??!

Right now, she was just hoping she didn't belch right in dear Kevin's face; that probably wouldn't be pleasing at all, {"eau de Lordship!"}, not based on the way the meal had tasted on the way down. Oh, well, she had a fast-paced digestive system; she should be right as rain by the morning surely, or at least by the following morning.

She'd already thrown up those metal pieces up in the mountains, had puzzled over the lettering on the back. {"Looked like names, which was odd. Augusta - Mary - Annalee - Mer . . . something - a goodly number of them, at least fifteen or sixteen, though the rest indecipherable. No wonder it gave me indigestion!"}.

She'd taken the precaution of scratching a deep hole in the shadows of that far bit of forest where she'd ended up gulping her meal, and deposited all of the scraps there, metal, fabric and all else, covering it over well; no sense taking any chances. Now there was only the matter of that slight injury she had taken; that would have been worrisome, except for a strong feeling she had that the one piece of evidence was in good hands, at least til she could retrieve it.

Now, with Kevin finishing his story of little Jeannette's birthday breakfast, she nodded. "Well, it seems you and Julie had a lovely bit of a break there. Now, you be sure to tell her I'm looking forward to a visit myself; she's not to neglect old Friends in favor of new. Of course, she's really more like Family, isn't she, and that means she's even LESS to stand on formality. And you tell her I expect to see her in fine fettle, with nary a frown on that pretty face of hers. These aren't pleasant times, to be sure, but remind her of what Mark Twain once said - "We worry, dread and fear what hasn't happened, and probably never will." In fact, I would say, in most cases, ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY never WILL happen." Her smile was one of simple serenity. 

{"Odd, really. I used to find that smile terribly off-putting,"} Kevin Richards thought to himself, knowing that would not be the case in the future. Then, he paused, remembering all the OTHER times he'd seen that smile, the reasons for those smiles. {"Well, maybe I won't ALWAYS find that smile off-putting, at least sometimes. Yes, that's far more realistic, I suppose."}

Her smile shifted now, to one containing a great deal of knowing amusement, and he knew she'd known quite well what he was thinking. 

 

The absence of the local Highly Distinguished Resident had gone unremarked for a day or two, til an inquiry had come down from someone at the House of Lords after he'd missed the debate and subsequent vote on an issue he'd taken particular interest in. If that debate and vote had been out a few weeks, it's likely his absence would have remained unnoticed even longer. Certainly no one at his country home seemed unduly perturbed at his absence.

The household had even seemed rather puzzled at the inquiry, willing to talk, of course, but rather wondering why anyone was surprised. Seems this wasn't so unheard-of an occurrence with that particular individual. 

"Well, perhaps it is from London's side, but not from ours; wouldn't know how he conducted himself up there, but made a right habit of it when he was in residence here. Never knew when he'd take off without a word, anytime day or night, or show up without one either, expecting us to be waiting with a hot dinner though we'd no idea he was coming. Once he took off in his smallclothes, you know, came back weeks later wearing a priest's cassock!"

The local constable had felt this whole thing beyond him, and with London pressing for answers, with the connection to the Nobs and Royals, he had called in the best from London who had some experience dealing with possible odd occurrences connected to such.

Now Lew Mabry, Inspector, Scotland Yard, was collecting the story from the butler, a solemn man of about sixty, Jeffers by name.

"Came barreling down from his room quite late, a little after one; I was just headed to my quarters. Oh, yes, quite the usual for me to be awake that late; well, me and the others of the household as well, of course, whenever he was in residence. He turned in early most evenings, along around ten, but always insisted the staff remain in position, on alert, til half past midnight, in case he awoke and needed something. Said he thought he heard something. No, sir, I hadn't heard anything, then or later, nor had any of the others, just him, seemingly. Just grabbed his shotgun and headed out onto the back lawn, still clad in his nightclothes and slippers. Told us to stay here, out of his way, and not to be spying on him either; most firm about that, he was. No, we didn't argue with him; of course not! One doesn't argue with His Lordship! No, he just didn't come back in; we went looking for him, but found nary a trace, except for the shotgun left leaning up against a tree over there. Figured he'd just had one of his odd starts again."

Jeffers fingered the small object in his pocket, lingering over the odd shape and feel of it. He would treasure it, just as he would treasure the sight he'd seen from the upstairs hallway window - easily the most glorious sight he'd ever seen!

"Well, yes, he has been acting a mite strange, but then those of his family do, you know, once they reach his age. Why, could tell you stories that would pure astonish you, of all the odd ways and starts they came up with once they hit their forties." He paused to pour a cup of coffee for the Inspector from the tray just delivered from the kitchen.

"Some were right successful at managing things in spite of it all, kept the oddness to a minimum. Still, more than a few ended up tucked away in the attics, you know, though not all. Some it just came out in small ways. There was one, would eat peas and carrots, relished them even, but only if they were lined up across a blue tray, one by one, one pea, then one little carrot, then another pea and so forth; three rows, one right atop the other, six across for each row. If they rolled and came to touch each other, he'd send it back to the kitchen in a pout, said it purely ruined them. Some came to dress oddly, one wearing only purple from his forty-fifth birthday til the day he died; one refused to cut his hair or his nails - were ever so long when he passed on. Some had a tendency to wander away; some never did come back."

Taking a sip from his own cup, he nodded solemnly in the memory of all that oddness.

"Him, now, well, he's done some wandering himself, in recent years, but he's always came back, at least before now. Now, the master- he's one of those ever so successful; making quite a name for himself up in London, you know. Why, quite powerful he's become, in all manner of ways. Still, no question, he's a bit odd. Well, it runs in the family, you know."

Jeffers listened to the questions being asked, and responded easily.

"The household? Oh, certainly sir. There's myself and the eight other men that handle things around here, house and stables and such. They're waiting inside, in the kitchen, if you need to speak with them. Females? Oh, no sir. Not any more. Well, her Ladyship, Lady Merilla, the most recent one, she took a fall about a year ago, tumbled down the main staircase, snapped her neck like a twig. The one before her, Lady Augusta, she went rowing on the lake and tipped over, her and her young sister Mary, poor things."

"Oh, other females you were asking about, from the household? We haven't any right now. What we had started leaving some months back. Notice? Well, no, just up and left, without a word, every one of them. Some didn't even take their belongings, such that they were. How many? Well, let's see. There was Maryanne, and Annie from the dairy, and Lucy, and Annalee the downstairs maid, and Maggie. She helped Cook, you know. Lori left after Annie, if I remember right, and Betty soon after. No, no word from them afterwards; well, not likely, them up and just taking off like that. Well, the Master, he's not an easy man, you know. Report them as missing??! Oh no sir! Master would never have stood for that; would have given others a reason to feel what he called 'jumped up', impressed with their own importance, you know. No, we were just told, if anyone asked, to say they took off, flighty things that they were."

The Inspector sat at the small local, sipping a pint and looking over his notes. There were a couple of ways he could take this. He could bring a strong team down here, taking statements from all the locals, looking into His Lordship's disappearance more closely, along with that story of the female household help that had just 'taken off'. Of course, his men were canny ones, and one or more would wonder if maybe they shouldn't look a little closer at the untimely deaths of Ladies Merilla and Augusta, along with young Mary. He had a grim feeling he wouldn't like what they'd eventually find. Of course, with His Lordship's connections, the positions he held, the roles he played in London, that might not go over so well.

Oh, well, there was always the second option. It might not be tidy, especially for whoever was in line to take over the title in the case of His Lordship's demise, but it might just be the best for all.

He lifted his head and a finger, signaling the barman he'd like another pint. Bending his head to his report book, he solemnly wrote out, "no evidence of foul play. It is my considered opinion he left, without leaving word, for some reason of his own, as he had been known to do in the past. While the timing was perhaps a trifle odd, His Lordship did have a history of odd behavior. It seems it ran in the family. It would be my recommendation his family be notified, that they might engage a caretaker for the properties until the day when His Lordship might return." Inspector Mabry had a firm feeling that it would be a cold day in hell when that happened, but still, SOMEONE needed to be in charge til the man could be declared legally dead.

 

Jeffers felt the presence in his room, blinked the sleep from his eyes. 

"You have something of mine, I believe," he heard, the voice not hard and angry, but soft and gentle. He didn't feel afraid, but he was disappointed; he'd hoped he would be allowed to keep that little memento, that two inch-wide curved scale of turquoise splashed with gold. Still, he'd halfway been expecting this.

"Yes. I have it safe; it's in the envelope tucked into the back of my bible box, there on the dresser behind you." He felt more than saw the figure turn and take that battered volume in hand.

"Thank you for keeping it safe," the voice, a female voice, slightly husky.

"No, thank you." He hesitated, then in a rush. "Was he very frightened? Did it hurt?"

A long pause. "He was terrified. And I certainly imagine it did hurt, immensely."

Jeffers' voice was scarcely more than a whisper. "Good, I'm glad." He knew that sounded uncharitable; he didn't really care. He thought his visitor would appreciate truth more than pious mouthings.

She hesitated, wanting to know, but not wanting to know as well.

"There were names, scratched onto the back of his 'medals' - Augusta, Mary, Annalee, something starting with Mer. That was all I could read, the several others were too faint and worn. Who were they?"

Jeffers' voice was sad, "some of the others had done that as well; I didn't know he'd continued the tradition. I imagine most were old ones he'd found here, in the Master's Chambers, but Augusta and Merilla, they were his first and second wives. Mary was Lady Augusta's fourteen year old sister. Annalee was the downstairs maid."

He looked at the shadowed figure earnestly. "Lady Augusta and Miss Mary, we had no warning, and thought it truly might have just been a dreadful accident; they DO happen, you know. He was just 35, younger than any I've heard of when the family affliction came upon him. We'd been so hopeful, you know; not all of them were stricken, and while he wasn't particularly pleasant, we thought he might be one of those who were spared the worst of it. They had no other families to question, the ladies, and it was passed over; he truly seemed to mourn them, you know?"

"He married Lady Merilla two years after; she also had no family, and we tried to watch and take care of her, thinking perhaps she would be safe - he seemed much like his old self, except for that trace of sadness from the earlier tragedy. After Lady Merilla had her fall, well, we stopped hoping he'd been overlooked."

"We banded together, the other men of the household and myself, banded together, pooled what we had in the way of monies, managed to send away the other women in the household, as quickly as we could without it being overly obvious. You see, in the past, they ALWAYS started with their wives, but then branched out to the household. All left, Maggie being the last, except for Annalee. She was the downstairs maid. She had her share of arrogance, along with absolute confidence in her beauty and appeal. She had more than her share of ambition, as well; I don't know whether she thought to make herself his mistress or thought, however foolishly, that he might make her his Lady. I think she told him of me trying to warn her away, for he was suspicious of me even before she disappeared." His smile was twisted, "I imagine I would have been gone missing one of these days."

"Well, it's right worried we were, all of us, and not just for ourselves. He's been talking about a new Lady for the place, a young lady from London; another of those without anyone left in the world, that he intended to take to wife." 

For a moment Meghada had been puzzled, then she knew. Perhaps it wasn't that the lady had no one left, not at the moment; it was perhaps more a statement of intent, that SOON the lady would have no one left. Her thoughts went to Kevin, and Aubrey, and Lyle, though she wasn't sure she should count Julie and Kevin's mother Lois, as she seemed least-in-sight and had been for years.

"And would the lady's name have been Julie?" getting a nod in return.

"Yes, would you be knowing her?" He wasn't surprised at getting no answer to that, but her next words did surprise him.

"Will you be alright here, you and the others?"

"Oh, yes, My Lady. Young Master Rupert should be arriving any day now. He's from a different branch of the family, so we have great hopes. He always seemed quite pleasant and kind when he visited here. We think he will work out well. If not, well, he is barely twenty-three; the 'troubles' don't usually start til they reach forty or so, not usually. Even at the worst, we have some time to recover, and we know not to be caught out again by an early start."

"Jeffers," and there was another long pause, as if his visitor was debating the wisdom of her next words, "I've changed my mind. I'm leaving your souvenir with you. If the 'troubles' DO start up, toss it into the fire and think on me. I'll see if I can't help. If I'm not available, I believe I can persuade one of my Family to help you."

He could hardly believe what was being offered, but hastened to accept. Still, "I'm not a young man. What if I am gone?" 

"Then be sure to pass the offer on to someone you trust. ONLY someone you trust entirely, with your entire spirit and soul, mind you. It would not do for that to fall into unfriendly hands."

And he nodded, "yes, My Lady. And, again, My Lady, my utmost thanks."

"Not at all, Jeffers. I assure you, it was entirely my pleasure."

 

"So, Meghada. Whatever the problem was, you have it resolved? I've never seen Kevin Richards so upset," Craig Garrison asked.

"Yes, it's resolved. An unpleasant situation, to be sure, but luckily one with a simple solution."

Casino hooted, "a 'simple solution'??? You?? Lady, sometimes I don't think you'd know a simple solution if it bit you on your . . . Uh, if you came face to face with it."

She shook her head solemnly, "not at all, Casino. True, I frequently use other, more complicated tactics. But sometimes a simple solution is truly the best solution. I'm not above using 'simple' when it's appropriate." She reached for another of the digestive crackers in the bowl beside her.

"Ei, luv. You still 'ave a twitchy stomach? That's not like you," Goniff said with a puzzled look.

She smiled at him, appreciating his concern. "Nothing to worry about, laddie. Likely just something I ate."


End file.
